


Is There a Spark of Life?

by misfitmonarchy



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Original Character(s), Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles-centric, Temporary Character Death, Vampires, tumblr drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misfitmonarchy/pseuds/misfitmonarchy
Summary: Stiles is bleeding out and he doesn't think they're going to be able to slap a band-aid over this one. Fucking vampires.





	Is There a Spark of Life?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick heads up, this was written in one sitting and not beta read/edited. Just some good ol' angst. I have a thing for Stiles being hurt so I'll say it now- i'm not sorry :) Not sure if I will add onto this more or not. For now it's standalone

Stiles watched helpless from the floor where he was sprawled as the doors fell shut behind the man that just entered. He was tall and lanky, much like Stiles was himself. But this man, sorely to Stiles’ realization earlier- was far stronger than he looked. 

They had been so  _ sure _ . 

God they had been  _ such idiots _ . 

Now, laying on the floor with blood soaking his favorite graphic tee, Stiles saw how  _ stupid _ they all had been. For fuck’s sake he’d been  _ joking _ about this with Scott this morning. 

Vampires.  _ Fucking Vampires _ had come to Beacon Hills, drawn in by the Nemeton and lingering a bit too long for comfort. Deaton had supplied them with the mountain ash, the Argents helped them make the bullets and they had been  _ ready _ .

They’d been ready for the two vampires that had been snacking on the homeless on the outer reaches of the town. Only they hadn’t realized that vampires, like wolves, were pack animals. 

So here Stiles was, on the floor of yet another abandoned warehouse ( _ seriously how many of these Beacon Hills have? _ ) with a nasty gash on his abdomen staring at was definitely  _ more than two _ vampires. 

“Where are your little guard dogs? I can’t believe they really left their human unguarded like this.” The man who entered says, raising a judging brow at the red head who was licking Stiles’ blood off her clawed fingers. “It was almost  _ too _ easy.”

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need bodyguards.” He rasps, trying to ignore how Tall And Lanky’s eyes never leave the bleeding gash. Breathing hurts, and he’s almost certain that this time he might actually need a hospital instead of getting away with a few bandages. 

“Clearly you can’t.” Red Head scoffs from beside him. At this same moment the pack is probably already back at Deaton’s. Between Derek, Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Scott; and then Allison and her father- the two vampires they’d tracked shouldn’t have been a problem. Even if Stiles hadn’t made it in time to put down an ash barrier. 

“He doesn’t even know does he?” Scoffs another voice. Huh, Stiles hadn’t even noticed he was there. Then again, most of his focus was really centered in on Tall and Lanky, the woman with the red hair and his blood starting to make a puddle on the floor. He could see the trail of it from the doorway to where she had dropped him. 

“No. Probably not. Sparks are rare enough, I doubt that druid knows nearly enough to help him.”

“Mm. After we’re done with this one we should take care of him, Evelyn would be excited to replenish her supplies.” Red suggests, grinning like a shark. Stiles didn’t really know what they were talking about. The throbbing wound made everything else feel secondary. 

The voice of the man he couldn’t see, who Stiles decides to call Inviso-bill ( _because why not_ ) says something from wherever he is. Stiles is having a hard time focusing on Tall and Lanky who hasn’t stopped staring at his blood. 

Maybe he should just be grateful that no one is breaking out the straws and sucking him dry. Their red eyes seem to be unable to look away but no one other than Red has even tried to taste it. Maybe they’re waiting for him to pass out first? So there’s no fight?

He doesn’t know. His chest hurts badly, like a hammer is trying to beat its way out of it. The force of it startles a cough out of his chest. 

And  _ oh _ . He’s coughing up blood.  _ That _ cannot be good. 

“They’re going to kill you.” He mutters, trying and failing to lift his head off the dirty ground. 

“Not fast enough.” Tall and Lanky grins. No. They will come. They  _ will. _ Someone must have noticed by now. Stiles hadn’t come with the ash barrier. Maybe someone found his jeep where it had been left in his driveway. 

Has it always been so dark in here? He suddenly aware of the edges of his vision fading to darkness. 

Shit. He can’t die. Not like this. Not  _ alone _ . 

“You seem to u-under...” Another cough. The blood drips over his lips, and Stiles can’t be bothered to wipe it away. “...estimate the same wolves who..” Has it always been this hard to breathe? “Killed two... a-already..” 

“Oh, the fledglings? Mm. Can’t say I’ll miss them. Though,” Tall and Lanky chuckles, crouching down by Stiles’ head. “they did make awful good bait.” Stiles feels his breath catch but he can’t tell if it’s from the bloodloss or from the surprise. Not only had they  _ stupidly _ miscounted the odds- they’d been  _ played _ . 

“What do you want?” Demands Stiles through clenched teeth.

Tall and Lanky tilts his head. “You’re trying to bide time. You really think those mutts will come for you?” His laugh is full of pity. It makes Stiles’ skin crawl. “They won’t even notice you’re missing until you’re already dead.” 

Red croons and runs a hand over Tall and Lanky’s shoulder. “Pity, really.” 

It feels as though someone has dumped a vat of ice water over him. He doesn’t want to believe them but then he can’t help think back to every time they’ve lost people. How many people had died during the Kanima before it had been taken care of? How many people had died from Peter? How many more would die by the hand of these vampires before the pack could end it. 

The pack didn’t even  _ know _ there was something to end. 

“Shit..” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but suddenly he didn’t care too much. He wondered if he begged them hard enough, would they let him call his dad one last time? Was it worth it? To tell him he loved him and that this wasn’t his fault? 

Or would that just be another ghost to haunt the Sheriff?

“Shhh... We’re going to take good care of you sweetheart.” Stiles hadn’t even realized he was crying- the pain was too much to think of anything else anymore. Tall and Lanky was petting his hair, he noticed vaguely. If Stiles could move his arms he would have tried to move but every one of his limbs feels like lead. He’s afraid if he tried to move his arm away from where it’s holding his stomach that all his organs will fall out and he’ll die faster. 

God. He’s  _ dying _ . This is it. He can feel like breaths getting rougher. It’s shock, that he’s going into. He’s read up on it enough times- seen pack members with their healing powers bounce back from it like its nothing. 

It’s definitely  _ not nothing _ . 

It hurts- everything. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad and it’s not just the gaping claw wounds. It’s his chest- the way his heart can’t keep up with his panic. The headache that he’s fighting because everything in his brain is telling him to  _ sleep _ . And he’s scared. 

Stiles is fucking terrified. This isn’t like every other time that the bad guy got out the upper hand and suddenly the pack swoops in. The pack isn’t here.  _ Derek _ isn’t here. 

Derek is usually the one saving his ass; and right now all he can think about is how badly he wants the former alpha to be here. Hell- he’d be happy if  _ any _ of them were here. But he knows that if Derek were the one breaking down the door-

Breaking down the door?

The crash doesn’t really register. Stiles has stopped relying on his senses when he hadn’t even been able to tell he was choking on his own blood. 

He expects it to be loud, snarling and shouting. Instead there’s nothing. It’s all muffled and numb. The only thing Stiles can really focus on now is that the ceiling of this warehouse at least has all the piping covered up. The last one with the alphas had been an abandoned mall. He remembers seeing Derek on that steel bar, skewered like a shish-kabob. 

It’s really not funny. It’s not even a little funny, but he wheezes out a laugh though it comes out as a sob anyways. Another cough follows it, rattling his chest as if there was glass mixed into his blood. The roaring in his ears reminds him of Scott, back when they’d been messing with the P.A system at school to lure in Peter. He wants to laugh at that too- but instead he’s being shaken. 

“-les!” 

A blurred figure is slowly coming into focus but Stiles can’t be too bothered to keep his eyes open long enough to recognize him. The vampires didn’t call his name, so he just hopes for the best that it’s pack. 

He’s not sure it matters now anyways. 

The headache is winning out, the blackness is swallowing his sight. 

“...king dare. Open your eyes.”  _ Oh. _ Derek’s here. Good. His lips smile of their own accord, and he can make out blue lights over his face. 

“Knew you’d come.” He mutters. Derek has that sharp frown on his face now. The one he usually wears right before beating the shit out of someone. Oh- right. He probably was in the middle of that. 

As his voice registers, so does the noise of fighting around him. The pack. He  _ knew _ they’d come. He wishes he could see Tall and Lanky- tell him a bit fat  _ I told you so! _

“Stay awake, Stiles.” It’s an order, Stiles doesn’t have the energy to scowl at it though. It’s a hard order to follow though. 

“M’ dad...” He slurs instead, because Derek’s tone reminds him of that special brand of ‘ _ cop voice but still your dad’  _ that the Sheriff liked to use. Fond but with an authority that demands Stiles better not even  _ think _ about protesting. “Tell ‘im. Lov-” Stiles coughs hard. It’s the worst one yet, but it gets better when Derek sits him up. 

“You’ll tell him yourself. Because you’re going to be  _ fine _ . You hear me?” 

Its another order that Stiles isn’t quite sure he can follow. He coughs again. Stiles wishes he could wipe the blood away from where it’s dripping onto Derek. He knows how much he’ll blame himself for it once Stiles is gone. 

He doesn’t want to die. But there’s nothing he can do now. 

“Stiles.” Right. Eyes open. 

“Der’k.” The words are thick in his mouth, like cottonballs. He has to close his eyes because breathing, talking and looking at him are all to much work. He can only manage two at a time. “don’t blame yourself. ‘romise me...” Derek’s arms are tense, the shouting is getting louder. 

If he’s going to be gone, he has to make sure Derek knows this though. Because Stiles  _ knows _ Derek. Knows that the werewolf will put this too on those already weighed down shoulders. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Stiles.” 

“Der’k...” He’s really not above begging, but he really doesn’t have the time for it.

“I promise.” It’s stiff but it’ll do. 

“M’ dad...” He chokes out now. If he weren’t actively dying, Stiles would be embarrassed by the tears falling now, by the sobs rattling out of his abused throat.

The pain is fading now. It feels nice, numb. With a slow blink, Stiles belatedly notices the black veins throbbing in Derek’s forearm. He watches it for a moment before it clicks.  _ Derek is taking his pain _ . 

“We’ll take care of him. And you’ll be there to see it, and get better. Because I’m not going to let you die, Stiles.”

“You always were... s-so bossy..” It’s too much to stay awake now, no matter how  many times Derek calls his name in a panic. 

It fades to black, with warm arms tight around him. He can a loud roaring just before he loses consciousness, and reckons that this time it wasn’t blood rushing through his body, but Derek. 

There’s something to be said about dying. The fact that he had some very vague feeling of awake-ness completely took him by surprise. There was no way they could have gotten him to the hospital in time. He knew what going into hypovolemic shock meant. The heart wasn’t pumping the blood fast enough to circulate oxygen to the body. If untreated, it wasn’t too uncommon for death to follow. 

This was different though. Everything around him was a stark blackness. Then suddenly it wasn’t. 

Where was that light coming from? It was a fizzling thing, like small fireworks. Or a small candle. It was brighter than it should have been for something so small. Stiles knew better than to touch fire- his dad had caught his curious hands enough times around campfires as a kid to make instinct. He really wasn’t in a hurry to feel a hand on the back of his neck hauling him back from it. 

Until he was- because  _ God _ . Stiles was  _ dead _ . He didn’t want to be. Or maybe he wasn’t? This strange awareness was really confusing the hell out of him. He didn’t remember walking towards the flickering lights, but now that he was close he could see it, they were small sparks, popping and crackling like a live wire.

_ What a strange dream _ Is the last thing he thinks before he lets his hands touch it. The sparks were warm, and reminded him of how it felt when he scored that winning goal last semester. How it felt when his dad caught him sneaking in late. When Scott had howled for the first time. When Derek slammed him against walls and got into his space. How Erica calls him Batman and Boyd had acquired an unspoken respect for him after their kidnapping with Gerard. It reminds him of when they saved Isaac from his dad. Of his mom’s home cooked lasagna and how he would always burn his mouth on it because he wouldn’t wait for it to cool. 

Adrenaline. Warmth.  _ Home _ . 

It rushes through him in a way that makes him notice how cold and empty he’d been feeling without it. The light washes over him-consumes him as if lighting himself aflame. The way his limbs suddenly lock is the only warning he gets before all he can feel is agony in his stomach and a roar in his ears. His eyes feels like they’re burning and suddenly he’s gasping for air-

Oh.  _ Oh. _

He’s not dead. Not even close. In fact, looking up at the ceiling of Deaton’s office- Stiles is aware of how very  _ alive _ he feels in this moment. 

“Oh my god!” The shout comes from somewhere to the left but all he can think of is ‘ _ I’m alive’  _ so the chaos around him doesn’t matter. Someone is touching his face while another pair of hands are grasping his own.  _ Scott _ . His bestfriend has tears on his cheeks, and is smiling. 

“You’re alive...” He whispers to Stiles and yeah. Stiles guesses-  _ yeah he is. _

“His spark- that thing the vampires were talking about- is that what did this?” Chris Argent is here. Stiles lets his head fall to the side, still catching his breath as he casts a glance around.  _ Actually _ , the entire pack and their allies are here. It’s now that he recognizes a sharp motherly voice near his knees. 

Melissa, too, huh?

“Stiles, I need you to focus. Can you do that?” The voice is distant but he could never ignore her- not even if he tried. 

“Mmmmn...” He wanted to answer he properly but it feels like he’s been electrocuted. Stiles needed a few minutes to get over the fact that he’s not dead. 

“Are you in any pain?” She asks, touching his chest- which is bared. When did that happen? ‘ _ Probably when you were almost-dead’  _ His brain supplies. 

“Mm mn.” He hums his answers for her as she does a quick checkup. It’s hard to focus on much but then there is someone helping him sit up and he’s staring into a light for Melissa. Someone is supporting most of his weight. It’s warm. 

“Almost done, then you can get some rest.” She promises just as he’s about to drift off. 

“I don’t understand. His heart stopped. We all heard it.” Scott’s voice feels distant even though it’s beside him. There’s a second warmth on his other side. He’s not sure which one is Scott, but he’s aware that his best friend is there, has a hand on him. 

He wants to ask so many questions. What happened. How is he alive? Where are the vampires? What happened to them? Are they dead? How did they know to find him? Was he a werewolf now? Did he get bit? Wait, they don’t have an alpha right now, do they? He can’t really sort out his thoughts. Was Derek mad he’d fallen unconscious back there?  

Instead what comes out is “I’m g’nna puke-” Seconds before lurching forward and delivering on that statement right onto the floor. There’s a scramble to clean it but he doesn’t have much left in him but the ability to lean to the left instead of veering to the right where Scott has moved to clean it. 

“He seems like he’ll be fine. But I want someone watching him for the next 24 hours. I have no idea what the hell happened but I won’t be letting this boy die for a  _ second time _ tonight.” She says. 

“I died?” He mutters in confusion, eyes half closed. It occurs to him that he hasn’t felt any pain since he sat up, imagines that it must be due to whatever warm body is holding him up now. 

“Scared the hell out of us.” Erica says from across the room somewhere.

“Damn right he did. If you  _ ever _ do that again, I will kill you myself.” Melissa threatens before hugging his side gently. 

“Sorry..” He croaks but she just smiles. 

“We really thought you were a goner,” Isaac has been quiet this whole time, but there’s a smile in his tone. He doesn’t even have the energy to try and figure out where he is in the room. “pretty sure we all lost it when we heard your heart stop.”

“Mmn. Vampires are dead.” It’s meant to be a question but Boyd confirms it anyways. Stiles lets himself settle against the heat beside him more firmly. “Derek okay?” He asks softly, he hasn’t seen him yet- or heard him. 

Though Derek might be angry with him, he remembers. He probably scared the hell out of the guy. 

“Right here.” The chest he’s been leaning against vibrates with sound. Oh. There he is. 

“Sorry. I couldn’t stay awake.” He mutters, finding himself with a similar problem now. He wonders if anyone called his dad. He hopes they didn’t tell him- even if he’s okay now, it would kill his dad to hear he’d been in danger. 

“It’s fine. Go to sleep, Stiles.” So he does. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought in the COMMENTS please! I'd really love to hear from all of you!
> 
> i'm [misfitmonarchythings](https://misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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